I was once on the point of eating 'Walktheplank' himself after he fell over board as a result o wearin a particularly huge wig wot overbalanced him...

Just as I opened me jaws to chomp im he put into play his emergency cunning plan wot consisted of readin one of his Tales...I woke up three weeks later on a Japanese Whaler an narrowly hescaped endin up as sushi!

Aaarrgh it had ta happen heventuallee...some poor sod attempted ta change Nef Yoo's Diaper an released a toxic cloud wot hengulfed first Portsmouth an then the hentire continent.

I found meself grounded an me wiv an himportant meeting wiv none other than Don Tabasco of Spain...he aint someone ye says no to or ye be loiklee ta foind an horses head in yer hammock!

Anyway as luck had it the Royal Navy were runnin shyppes out of Portsmouth to elp stranded Britons back from the incontinent. Wiv all haste I smuggled meself aboard thee Ark Royal dressed as a Jolly Jack Tar an orf we went.

I must say Her Majesty's shyppes be right comfy wiv flushin toilets, four bars, two restaurants (all serving curry) and 24 hour sea shanty entertainment. Everything went well and within the month I had concluded my business wiv Don Tabasco (he'll be sendin his usual consignment of bull fighters to thee political debates at the Admiral Benbow in return for a steady supply of Fish Head Stew to his enemies) and I was back on board thee Ark Royal for the return voyage.

Everything went well until one night I over did it on thee Navy Rum and started singing 'Fifteen men on a dead man's chest' an started doin my himpression o Long John Silver an shoutin 'Thems that die will be thee lucky ones!'The Captain got called to the scene an I couldn't resist givin him me best Long John Silver sideways mutinous look.

I be writin this from me prison cell at Exekushun Dock wiv a piece o charcoal made from the burnt remains o me peg leg! If only I'd a listened to Long Jock Roy McHunter...if onlee we hadn't tried ta change Nef Yoo's Diaper...if onlee me mummy hadn't a sold me to Blackbeard when I wuz four...if onlee I'd a stayed put as a Marks and Spencer Warehouse boy and not become a Madame Fifi's Whorehouse boy! How am I goin ta get to me trial now I've burned me peg leg? These and many other questions may never be answered...unless....

...There's a really old man in the cell wiv me...he be quite near ta death (If I've got anything ta do wiv it)...they puts the dead bodies into sacks an throw them into the sea...I have a cunnin plan...

I trust you are well and free of scurvy and such like. We write to you with reference to the publication of your serialised novel Pride and Predjewdice and Pirates. As you are aware Part thee Thyrde was published quite some time ago upon whyche we advanced you thee sum of 4000 Cronans in anticipation of the delivery of the Fourth installment. As no such installment has arrived at our premyces we herebye inform you that unless this edition is delivered by the end of Julye we shalle be forced to ask you for a full refund of said monies.

Get on wyth it yew blaggard!

Yours

Jeremiah Caxton

GULP!

I can't even remember what the story was about as I wrote it in thee back room snug o thee Benbow...after two days on thee Rum. There be onlee one recourse...sufferin barnacles from hell...I'll have ta read a Jane Austin book!!!!!

Mr. Caxton: Oh, Captain Black Bart, why are you not writing? - Sons, allow me to present this old pyrate to you as a very undesirable client. You cannot refuse to write, I am sure, when so much publishing weight is before you.